


Lebenschancen

by The_Grynne



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: M/M, Other, angel dads, god is a douchebag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 20:09:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7588342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Grynne/pseuds/The_Grynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the angel and the demon looked on their child, they were terribly afraid, for he was not born under the light of the Lord.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lebenschancen

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I haven’t read the comics, so this is mostly just speculation.

In the year that the Truce was unofficially struck, a demon fled to Earth, unbeknownst by either side of the war. The demon took refuge in the desert, and there, visited by an angel of the Lord who brought the demon shelter and drink, the demon gave birth to their first and only child.

As the angel and the demon looked on their child, they were terribly afraid, for he was not born under the light of the Lord. Could such a child, the angel reasoned, be aught but a blasphemy? The demon, having no affection for the Lord, but no answers either, made no reply, but only held the child and sang sweetly to him, mere human ditties of no importance, so that he would know the demon’s voice. There was weariness in the parents’ hearts, but love and wonder too, at the ineffable creation that they had wrought.

Suddenly a great army of the Lord’s angels appeared in the night sky, their song piercing the darkness like a volley of arrows:

‘Glory to God in the highest heaven, and woe to those who reject His light and love!’

‘Hush!’ cried the demon, closing the child’s eyes that he would not see its tears. ‘Have no fear, my dear. No harm may come to you while I am here.’ The lone angel had spread its gossamer wings around them like an mantle, and was crouched, trembling in anticipation of battle - but its head was hung in shame.

Then the light of the Seraphim was gone.

**CAN YOU STAND, FIORE?**

The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. Dumb with fright, the angel nodded.

**THEN STAND AND GET OUT OF HERE. I WILL DEAL WITH YOU LATER.**

This time, haltingly, the angel shook its head. **LEAVE, FIORE** , the Lord commanded yet again, but the angel would not move, though its body was clenched with the effort. ‘Fi-ore,’ the demon begged softly, but could not go on. Perhaps it had wanted to say: Save yourself.

**FIORE, GET OUT OF MY SIGHT. I WON’T TELL YOU AGAIN.** The Word of God boomed like gathering thunderclaps, like the storm that once washed away the world in a fit of rage. It was no use resisting it.

Lowly and timid in the hierarchy of heaven, Fiore did not know that such pain even existed until this moment, or that it had such love within it as this for anything that was not the Lord. The angel wailed, a wretched, inarticulate sound of grief, jerked to its feet by a compulsion it couldn’t ignore, turning its back on the demon and its babe.

DeBlanc was screaming at God.

’It was my fault! Never again, Lord. I’ll never seduce one of yours again, you have my vow. Do what you want with me - with _me_.’

**WHAT KIND OF ABOMINATION HAVE WE HERE.** The storm was circling closer, toppling water towers, making steam-driven jumpjacks creak in their iron sockets, whipping up sand and dried seeds until it could shred skin.

’Lord, he’s innocent! You can’t take him. I won’t let you. _He’s innocent._ ’ Fiore, hitched and disarticulated between the Command and the desire, the agonising _duty_ to remain with them, to _die with them_ , could no longer tell whose voice it was - ‘They’ll all know what you have done, you’ll be _exposed_ for the heartness tyrant that you are! Please! _Please_ just let him be’ - DeBlanc’s or Fiore’s own, that was uttering such heresies. Screams into the deaf wind that turned to beseeching, to threats, and finally sobs.

And then. Silence.

 

 

 

_‘An agreement was made—’_

_‘At the highest levels, you said?’_

_‘Yeah. That’s right.’_

_DeBlanc has no problem with lying. That’s why it does most of the talking._

 

 

 

Fiore was horrified.

DeBlanc was worried, but unrepentent. ‘He didn’t meant to do it,’ said DeBlanc. ‘Whatever he did. He couldn’t have known.’ The demon was holding the Old Timer Coffee can in its arms protectively, whilst making sure the lid was securely on. They had come across the misshapen, empty tin rolling across the flats when the winds had settled.

‘Whatever he did!’ repeated Fiore. A high-pitched giggle emerged from the depths of the coffee can, and the crackling sound of lightning. ’What he did-‘ Fiore gulped, ‘is kill _God_.’

DeBlanc frowned in disapproval. ’We don’t know that, dear,’ said DeBlanc, looking up at the sky that was beginning to turn purple with dawn. The Seraphim were still nearby; they needed to decide, and soon, whether or not they were going to run.

‘It’s a pretty solid conclusion. He’s _gone_ , ain’t he?’

‘Well, we’re not going to tell the others that, are we?’ What DeBlanc was thinking, but didn’t say, was: God had had it coming. It was an ugly, dangerous thought. Worthy only of a demon.

‘DeBlanc…’

‘What is it?’

‘You don’t think he’s…dangerous, do you?’

‘Only to those that want to hurt him. That’s why we have to keep him safe. And I’ve given him a name, now. He’s called Genesis. Isn’t that right?’ DeBlanc rocked the coffee can gently until it giggled again - their blameless new creation. Feeling careless and free, DeBlanc laughed along with it.

 

THE END


End file.
